The Favor
by VoodooQueen
Summary: In all the vorns that Ratchet had known Wheeljack, he certainly couldn't recall the mech ever mentioning having a sister.
1. Chapter 1

**The Favor**

**Chapter 1**

**Author's Note: I have no excuse for starting this story other than I felt the need to give Ratchet some loving. That's basically the only reason why this exists. Why? Because I love me some Ratchet. That's why.**

_**Flashbacks are in italics.**_

**Summary: In all the vorns that Ratchet had known Wheeljack, he certainly couldn't recall the mech ever mentioning having a sister. **

**Warning: Descriptions of interfacing ahead. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Cybertron**

"Hey, Ratch! Whatcha up to?"

The medic looked up from where he was loading recently used medical equipment into the autoclave to be sterilized to see the Autobot's resident engineer and part-time mad scientist, Wheeljack, waltzing into the medbay. A wide grin split the CMO's faceplates. "Oh, nothing much, Jack. I'm just finishing up here for the night. Care to wander down to the Promenade with me to get a cube of high grade?"

"I appreciate the offer but I'm gonna have to decline this evening." Wheeljack's helm finials glowed a soft blue matching his optics. He gave a happy, contented vent. "I actually have other plans."

"Oh?" Ratchet quirked an optic ridge questioningly. "Have you finally gotten up the nerve to ask that femme in communications out on a date? What's her designation? Crystal? Cast Iron?"

"Cascade," Wheeljack chuckled. "And no, I haven't asked her out."

"Well, why in Primus' name not?" Ratchet groused. "I can think of very few activities that should ever take precedence over spending quality time with a beautiful femme."

Wheeljack shook his head. "You mean interfacing with a beautiful femme, right?"

Ratchet shrugged his wide shoulders. "Is there really a difference?"

"Well ya know," Wheeljack started. "Some of us mechs actually like to know more about a femme besides what pops their panel, doc." The mech cocked his helm whimsically at the medic, his optics taking on a lighter hue. "One day I'm gonna meet the perfect femme. Someone who completes me, you know? We'll bond and, who knows…maybe get sparked and have a couple little mechs or femmes running around under our pedes…"

"Nice fantasy there, Jack," Ratchet snorted. "Romance is a thing of myth."

"Hey! It could happen!" Wheeljack chuckled. "You just have to give it a chance, Ratch. You don't know what you're missing."

"Missing?" Ratchet rolled his optics. "I have a pretty good idea what I'm missing." He started ticking points off on his servos. "Drama, complications, emotional trauma, jealousy, lying, cheating, spark ache…do I need to go on?"

Wheeljack shook his head sadly. "I get it, Ratch. You went through a horrible experience that changed your perspective on life. Not all femmes are like that, you know. What happened between you and Frost Fire…"

"Is ancient history." The medic finished for him. "I learned a lot from that experience and it's not something I'd like to repeat. Relationships aren't for me, Wheeljack."

"So, what?" Wheeljack pressed. "You're just going to spend the rest of your life bringing random femmes back to your berth whenever the mood strikes? No emotional attachment, no affection, just interfacing? Sounds like a long, lonely existence to me…"

Ratchet spun around and glared at the engineer with narrowed optics. "First of all, I don't see how my personal activities are any of your business. Secondly, there is no harm in a friendly frag, Jack. I give them a pleasant evening, a nice interface, and a good overload. No commitments, no regrets. All parties walk away happy and sated. I get to relieve a bit of tension and I don't have to deal with all the emotional slag that goes along with trying to keep a relationship together. And I never take them back to my berth, Jack. Never."

"If you say so, Ratch." Wheeljack lowered his helm. "I just think you're missing out, is all. There's a whole lot more to life than just fragging."

"Yes, well…" Ratchet turned back toward the autoclave, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he placed the last surgical tool on the rack. "Not all of us are cut out for a life of bond mates and sparklings, apparently."

"Look, Ratchet, I'm sorry." Wheeljack strode over to the now silent mech and laid a careful hand on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to bring any of that slag up. I know you loved her and I know it…I know it still hurts."

The CMO had gone completely still under the engineer's hand. His optics shuttered and his vents sucked in a great gulp of air to try to cool the heat raging in his systems. "It doesn't matter, Jack."

"No, Ratchet, it does matter," Wheeljack stated. "It matters a lot. You're a good mech and you've got a damn good spark. You have a lot to offer to another bot. You're caring, loyal, intelligent, and successful and according to the femmes around base you're not all that bad-looking either. You're a doctor for Primus' sake! Any femme would be fortunate to be bonded to you. Why Frost Fire did the things she did is beyond me but you know what? That's her loss, Ratchet, not yours. I just…I don't understand why you're still letting her actions dictate your life after all this time."

Ratchet vented heavily and glared over at the other mech. As much as he wished he could be mad at the engineer for dredging up painful thoughts, he couldn't be. Wheeljack had become one of his dearest friends and the medic had to admit that he did, somewhere down deep, appreciate the other mech's concern. The CMO shook his head, "Are you quite done?"

Wheeljack looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good." Ratchet shrugged off the mech's hand and pulled himself up to his full height. "Now, did you just come in here to psychoanalyze me or did you actually want something?"

"Oh, yeah!" Wheeljack's helm finials brightened back to their happy blue color, his optics once again twinkling with mirth. "I sort of have a favor to ask you."

"What kind of favor?" Ratchet crossed his arms and leaned back against the now humming autoclave. Out of habit his did a quick medical scan on his colleague for any damage not readily visible to the naked optic. "Nothing has exploded has it? You seem to be functioning fine."

"No, nothing has exploded." Wheeljack squirmed under the medical laser's assault. "I wanted to know if you're free tomorrow evening after your shift."

Ratchet cut off his scans. "Yes, I'm free. First Aid is on call tomorrow. Why?"

"Well, you see," Wheeljack started. "I'm supposed to meet my sister down at the Docks in a couple joors…"

"You have a sister?" Ratchet cut the engineer off. "I never knew you had a sister!"

"Never mentioned that, did I?" Wheeljack chuckled a bit uncomfortably. "I'm sure I must have…"

"I think I would have remembered something like that, Jack," Ratchet huffed. "Primus, you think you know a mech…"

"Well, now you know. I have a younger sister and her name is Caliper." Wheeljack's optics lit up with affection. "She's a propulsion engineer, you know, helps design and construct spacecraft and warp engines for the armada. You know the tandem drive engines they use out in the main fleet? She drafted the design for those."

Ratchet didn't miss the way the other mech's chassis had puffed up in pride. His own lip components quirked up in a smile, the other mech's excitement was infectious. "She sounds like a very bright femme."

"She is." Wheeljack nodded enthusiastically. "She managed to land a spot in the Triumvirate's Research and Development Unit straight out of the academy on a recommendation of the Lord High Protector, himself."

Ratchet's optics widened. "That is impressive."

Wheeljack hummed in agreement. "Which brings me to what I originally came in to ask you. I'm meeting her at the Docks in a couple joors. She's been reassigned to a propulsion lab here in the sector which means that she'll be staying with me at my place for a while. She has to report to her new assignment early tomorrow. I can see her to the Tram in the morning but I won't be off shift early enough to meet her there at the end of the day. She doesn't really know the city that well and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind meeting her there for me and just making sure that she makes it back to my place alright Normally, I wouldn't ask but with all the craziness in the news lately I just don't want her out there wandering around alone after sundown, you know?"

"Hmm…" Ratchet nodded. "I understand. All of this political tension has bots acting savages. The economy is starting to tank and mech's think that gives them a reason to beat each other to death over credits. Bad situations seem to bring out the worst of the degenerates, it seems. I've treated eight femmes for forced coupling over the last orn. Eight!" The medic sighed and shook his head in disgust. "Hopefully, the Prime and the Lord High Protector get their differences ironed out soon before this whole planet goes to the Pit."

"The commentators are saying it's probably going to get worse before it gets any better." The engineer vented. "I just don't understand how Megatron can garner so much support from the masses. Do bots not listen to what he's saying, what he wants to do? It boils down to state mandated servitude."

Ratchet huffed, "All they care about is the fact that he's promising them free slag. Why be bothered to care for yourself when you can become a mindless Decepticon Army drone and have all your physical needs met by the powers that be. Those bots don't care where the Energon is coming from so long as their tanks stay full."

"It's a Primus-forsaken travesty, is what it is."

"I agree, Jack," the medic nodded. "What time will your sister be at the Tram station tomorrow evening?"

"Ah, yes," some of the tension left the engineer's frame as he realized he had once again been sidetracked from his intended purpose. Thinking of his younger sister once again had his finials glowing softly. "She'll be coming in on the last Tram so right around dusk."

"Very well," Ratchet nodded. "You may tell her that I'll meet her there."

"Hey! Thanks, Ratch!" Wheeljack's mouth could not be seen due to the blast mask covering the lower portion of his faceplates but the way his optics crinkled at the corners indicated his smile stretched wide beneath. "I owe ya one!"

"Bah!" Ratchet waived the mech off. "You can show me how thankful you are by not blowing yourself up for the next couple cycles. Now get out of here before you're late."

"I make no promises." The engineer chuckled and waved back at the medic as he made his way back out of the medbay. "Thanks, again!"

Ratchet watched the mech go with a ghost of a smile on his lip components. It faded quickly once the medbay doors slid shut leaving him to himself once again. A rush of loneliness settled over him making him feel cold. Some company of the femme persuasion would be nice just for the night, he decided. He thought of heading on down to the Promenade on his own for a cube of high grade. There was never a shortage of willing femmes at the energon bar. There were even rooms you could rent upstairs to work off your overcharge.

Or, he mused, there was always the new medical receptionist. Titania, her name was. She was all shiny, red armor and smooth curves. She had a perfectly molded chassis leading down to an impossibly small waist before flaring back out into a set of tantalizing hips. Admittedly, she wasn't the brightest femme ever to be sparked and her armor although stylish and optic-catching was easily two sizes too small for her frame and most likely wreaking havoc on her internals which normally would have irritated the medic to no end had he not been in his current state. Still, Ratchet hadn't missed the way the femme's optics roved over his own frame every time they came into proximity of each other in both curiosity and arousal. He was certain the femme wouldn't think twice about inviting him back to her berth if he indicated his interest.

Ratchet contemplated his options and just as quickly dismissed them both. He was lonely, yes, but the engineer's words were still too fresh in his processor. Though physical closeness with another being did help to alleviate his inner turmoil temporarily, it did little to address the root cause of his predicament. The overload was always welcome at the moment it happened but it didn't change the fact that once he came back to his senses and crawled out of one berth he would be returning to his own all alone with his thoughts. Thoughts, he knew, that seemed to center around that one, particular femme.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Frost Fire, he had mistakenly believed, was The One. He had even entertained delusional fantasies like the one's Wheeljack had expressed once upon a time. In his own processor he had envisioned he and __Frost Fire_ bonded. He imagined that they would have moved out of the city sector to a nice, quiet place on the outskirts…the perfect place to raise a sparkling or two. In his day dreams he had even conceived the possibility of resigning from his post as Prime's CMO and starting a small, private medical practice in order to spend more time at home with his fledgling family. He had gone so far as to venture down into the Merchant's District on one of his days off and purchase a bonding insignia for the femme with plans of proposing.

_His plans, needless to say, had not worked out the way he had imagined. It had been one of those days where a mech wishes they had never climbed out of the berth to begin with. No sooner had he onlined his optics he was being pinged by First Aid, then his apprentice, for assistance with a critical neural net transfer on a patient that had fell victim to a freak ion blast at an energon mine. __Frost Fire_ had only rolled her optics in irritation when he explained that he had to head in to the medical bay for an emergency procedure. He had told her that he would be back as soon as he could. They had plans later that evening and he intended to ask her to bond with him that night. She had merely shrugged her shoulders as he quickly kissed her before heading toward the door. He had turned back briefly to see her already returning to recharge, her features beautiful and serene in her state of rest. At that moment he had thought of himself as quite possibly the luckiest mech on Cybertron.

_Fortunately, for the patient at least, First Aid's emergency neural net transfer ended up being a simple grid overhaul that took half as much time. They had been closing the mech's helm before midday which meant Ratchet would be home early and getting to spend some much desired time with his femme. He had made his way back through the bustling cityscape, a happy spring in his step as he neared the apartment he shared with Frost Fire. Entering the building he had rode the elevator up to the proper floor and stepped off, humming contentedly to himself as he approached the door to their apartment and keyed in his code._

_The first thing he noticed when the door swung open was the femme's absence. Normally, Frost Fire, alerted by the sound of the door code being entered, met him at the door with a kiss and a cuddle. This time, however, she was nowhere to be found. Looking around the apartment, he saw nothing out of place but his audio receptors picked up some sounds coming from the berth room. He headed that direction, confusion prickling at his processor. It sounded like…_

_A guttural grunt._

_A breathy moan._

"_Oh, Primus…yes!" Frost Fire's voice. "Yes…please, don't stop! Mmmm…just like that!" _

_Realization washed over the medic and he had pushed the door mechanism with a shaking hand. The sound of the door sliding open had caused the scene before him to grind to an excruciating halt. His optics fluttered, hoping to clear away what he was seeing. The scent of lubricant and transfluid hung heavy in the air and brutally assaulted the medic's olfactory senses. "What the frag is going on? Frost Fire?"_

_The femme was in her protoform, her dark blue optics widened in surprise, even as she shamelessly straddled the hips of the black and white armored mech beneath her. His interface equipment was still buried deep within her port; small shudders wracked her frame indicating that she was on the very cusp of overload when they had been interrupted. Realizing that they were no longer alone she had tried to scramble off the mech's lap but his hands had held fast to her hips. The mech's red optics had gazed back into Ratchet's blue ones with a hint of challenge, a smirk twisting up one corner of his mouth as he bucked once more, viciously, into the femme causing her to gasp and keen._

"_R-ratch-chet…n-no. W-wait, I…ahhh!" Whatever Fire Frost had been going to say was lost as the mech's final thrust threw her into overload. _

_In his fury, Ratchet hadn't even realized he'd been moving until he was reaching for the front door. Before he could make his escape, however, a set of slender servos had shackled his wrist. Spinning, he found himself looking down into Frost Fires optics, cleansing fluid leaking down her faceplates. He jerked his hand away. "Don't touch me."_

"_Ratchet, please, just listen." She looked up at him guiltily. Heat still rolled from her frame, cooling fans still roaring. "It isn't what it looks like…"_

"Really?" the medic snorted. "Because it looked like you were fragging another mech in our berth!"

_She, at least, had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted you to find out."_

"_You're sorry?" Ratchet crossed his arms over his chassis. "How long has this been going on?"_

"_Ratchet…"_

"_How long?!" the mech demanded. _

"_For the last stellar cycle, okay?!" Fire Frost narrowed her optics. "There! Are you happy now?"_

"_The last stellar cycle?" Ratchet's arms fell to his sides in disbelief. "What? Why? How could you do this, Fire Frost? I love you! I thought we were happy!"_

"_You're never here!" Fire Frost defended. "You're always at that damn medbay!"_

"_I'm a doctor, for Primus' sake, Fire Frost! Bots get hurt and I'm obligated to fix them!" Ratchet's processor was spinning. "And every astrosecond I'm not at work, I'm here with you!"_

"_Yeah, well…" the femme shrugged. "Maybe I'm tired of spending my evenings sitting on the lounge with you in front of the viewer." _

_Ratchet's optics widened, "We go out all the time!"_

"_Really? Where?" Fire Frost smirked. "To the Gallery? The Archives? The Plaza? Please, Ratchet, a femme needs a little excitement from time to time. And, occasionally, a good hard frag." Her optics drifted over to the berth room door where the mech had finally emerged and was watching events unfold with barely contained glee._

"_You're willing to throw away everything we have together just for an interface?" Ratchet was still having difficulty processing the situation. It all seemed so surreal. "I don't understand…" _

"_It's not like we can't still be together, Ratchet. We can. I just need a little…variety in my life from time to time." The femme shrugged. "This doesn't have to change anything." _

"_It changes everything," Ratchet clenched his denta together. "I need you to leave."_

"_Ratchet," she reached for him again. "Don't be that way. I don't expect you to be exclusive, either. If you want a femme or two on the side, I'd be alright with that…"_

"_I said don't touch me!" He jerked away from her questing hands. "Just…get out!" _

_He had been out the door before the femme could say anything more_.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ratchet heaved a sigh as he moved toward the medical bay doors. He took one last look around the room to make sure everything was in order before dimming the lights and keying in the security code. He made his way down the hallway, out passed the receptionist's desk and paused. Titania was still there, straightening up for the night.

The femme looked up from shutting down her console and flashed a bright smile Ratchet's way. "Are you heading out for the night, doctor?"

"Yes, I am." He gave her a cursory once over but found her too-tight armor and bright red armor nowhere nearly as appealing as he had just moments ago. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive, she was. Just…not tonight.

"Say," the femme started. "Would you like to maybe get a cube of high grade with me before calling it day?"

High grade, too, had been a part of Ratchet's plans for the evening but even it didn't perk his interest as much as it had. He considered her offer only briefly before shaking his head in the negative. "It's been a rather trying day, Titania. I think I'm just going to head home to my berth and crash."

"Oh," the femme nodded but her optics betrayed her disappointment. "Another night, then?"

"Count on it." Ratchet smiled at her. With that, the mech headed out to go home. Alone.

**End of Chapter 1**

**I know I have a short attention span and I story hop a lot. I do apologize. But I had to write this. I just had to. Forgive me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Favor**

**Chapter 2**

**Author's Note: It gives me great pleasure to present you with chapter 2 of this story and yet makes me sad that it isn't an update to my other stories. I would also like to thank my reviewer for the last chapter, Deception is Decepticon. This story is going to be a bit of a mash-up between movies and cartoons to answer your question. Thanks for reading! **

_**Flashbacks are in italics.**_

**Summary: In all the vorns that Ratchet had known Wheeljack, he certainly couldn't recall the mech ever mentioning having a sister. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Cybertron**

The next evening found Ratchet waiting at the Tram station for Wheeljack's sister as promised. He had shown up early after tactfully declining yet another invitation from Titania to go out for energon and had settled himself down on a bench to bot watch and pass the time. His thoughts still lingered on the medical receptionist, however, and he found himself wondering how he had strayed so far from his own ideals and principles. Perhaps, he mused, his engineer friend had better observational skills than what he gave him credit for.

In the past, he would have never given a femme like Titania a second glance. Oh, sure, they were nice to look at with their flashy armor and also quite delightful to touch but often offered very little else outside of that short lived physical gratification. Ratchet, being a more intellectually inclined mech, had always preferred substance over fashion in a companion. Certainly attraction had its role to play in any relationship but personality had always been a huge part of what he found irresistible in a companion. In Frost Fire he had believed that he had been fortunate enough to find the best of both worlds.

XXXXXXXXXX

_They had met, appropriately enough, in the med bay. It had been a late night and the medic had found himself bombarded by patients who, in his opinion, had done more to contribute to their own injuries than anything else. It was one of those cycles where Ratchet found himself lamenting over the fact that while he could rebuild broken bodies, he could do very little to fix stupidity. Cursing and wrench chucking had been the order of the day and the medic was more than looking forward to escaping back to his humble abode for some well-deserved rest and defrag._

"_Um, excuse me?"_

_The soft, lilting voice drifted over to where the medic stood on the other side of the med bay restocking the medical supplies that had been used up during his shift. He had been so caught up in completing his task and escaping back home that he hadn't even heard the door slide open. His shoulders slumped slightly as he realized the conversation he was about to get himself involved in would probably mean he would not be leaving anytime soon. Stealing himself for whatever came next, he turned to face the newcomer._

"_Yes, can I…" He found himself suddenly looking into the eyes of the most beautiful femme he believed he had ever seen. His spark fluttered and his speech faltered which was a rarity for him. "Help you?" _

"_I hope so," the femme smiled shyly. "I was looking for the CMO. You wouldn't happen to be him, would you?"_

_It took Ratchet a moment to realize the femme had asked him a question. It took him another moment to realize she was waiting for him to give her some sort of an answer. "Y-yes, I am. I am Chief Medical Officer Ratchet." He cursed himself for stammering like a youngling. Quickly, he straightened himself and let his professional demeanor take over. "How may I be of assistance?"_

"_My name is Frost Fire and I just transferred here from Crystal City. I'm a Tech Specialist. I was supposed to come by earlier today for an indoc physical but I got stuck in the Security Director's office and, well, didn't know if he was ever going to let me out." The femme, Frost Fire, chuckled. _

_The sound, to Ratchet's audios sounded like the tinkling of bells; a pure, beautiful sound. It made his frame warm pleasantly and his spark pulse faster. _

"_That mech is quite…thorough," Frost Fire finished with a crooked grin. _

"_Red Alert, thorough? I suppose that is one way to politely phrase it." Ratchet snorted. "Clinical paranoia is my official diagnosis." The femme laughed again. Ah, that beautiful sound was doing wonderful things to the medic's internals. _

"_Paranoia aside, we did manage to come to the conclusion that I am not a Decepticon Army spy sent to infiltrate the Autobot ranks and wreak havoc nor am I an intergalactic mercenary bent on universal domination. And it only took us the better part of a day to figure it out!"_

"_Well, that is comforting to know. I feel much safer about having you in my med bay." Ratchet chuckled and motioned to the medical berth closest to him. Suddenly, he really didn't care all that much about going home. "Come on in and hop up onto a berth we'll get that physical out of the way."_

"_Now?" The femme looked at him wide-opticed. "I mean, I know it's late and you looked like you were getting ready to leave. I can come back in the morning if that's better for you. I really just wanted to check in and make sure you knew I wasn't just blowing off a doctor's appointment for the fun of it." _

"_Nonsense," Ratchet disagreed. "This is the perfect time. It was a madhouse in here earlier. Plus, it isn't the first time Red has held one of my patients against their will during indoc so you can rest assured that I won't count it against you." _

"_Are you sure?" Frost Fire took the last few steps forward to close the distance between them and tilted her helm back to look up at the CMO questioningly, a soft smile pulling at her lip plates. "I really don't mind coming back in the morning." _

"_I'm positive." Ratchet looked back down at her warmly, his spark humming happily. "Now up on the berth you go."_

XXXXXXXXXX

The rest, as they say, is history. Ratchet vented harshly and stood. It did no good for him to continue to dwell on past events he couldn't change. What he had once looked back on as happy memories now only contributed to his current state of misery. He had often wondered if there was anything he could have done or said differently to change what had happened between himself and Frost Fire.

What if he had sent her away that night? What if she had come back in the morning when First Aid was there instead of him? Would things have been different? Could he have saved himself the spark ache and continued on as if he'd never laid optics on her? Or would he still have ended up a bitter, cynical mech whose only joy in life had become fumbling, lust-filled encounters with random femmes whose designations he didn't even bother with learning half the time? She had ruined the mech he had once been, he knew. There was no denying it. Pit, even Wheeljack could see that much.

Shaking his helm to clear it, he checked his internal chronometer. The last scheduled Tram of the evening was due to be arriving at any moment. He moved closer to the platform. Sure enough, from his new vantage point he could see the Tram in the distance approaching the station. It brought with it another train of thought which the medic was more than eager to embrace. Namely, just who was Wheeljack's sister?

"Caliper," Ratchet tested the name and chuckled. With a designation like that he figured the poor femme was destined for some kind of engineering work. He still couldn't believe Wheeljack had forgotten to mention her. Then again, Ratchet knew his friend's one track processor had a way of omitting any information that didn't revolve around one of his many inventions.

Ratchet also realized in his haste the previous evening, he had forgotten to even ask Wheeljack what his sister looked like and so he really didn't know who he was looking for. His processor had concocted its own composite of what it believed a sibling of the explosion-prone mech should look like. Ratchet's version came complete with the stocky-blocky, rugged frame common on engineering mechs, a pitted blast mask, tiny Wheeljack inspired helm finials, and plenty of dings, dents and scorch marks like the ones Wheeljack often sported after a shift in his infamous laboratory. The result was, needless to say, not an attractive one.

Ratchet suppressed a shudder as the Tram finally came to a stop at the platform. Bots, both mechs and femmes, began the departure process. He observed as family units excitedly came back together after time apart. At the far end of the platform grand-creators were meeting their creation's sparkling for the first time and the scene brought a smile to Ratchet's face. All around him lovers embraced and long-lost friends reunited but no one caught his optic as 'belonging' to Wheeljack.

A few more moments ticked by and the platform began to clear as bots filtered out of the station to destinations unknown. Still, Ratchet had yet to find his friend's sibling. As the last pair of bots wandered off arm in arm, Ratchet felt the first inkling of worry for a femme he had never even known existed. He contemplated comming Wheeljack and was just about to make the call when the Tram doors slid open once again and the sound of hurried movements and shuffling pede-falls filtered out to his audio receptors.

"Alright, sir. Wait here for just a click. I'll be right back."

Ratchet heard her before he could see her. Her voice was raised as if speaking to someone who could not hear well. It was a voice full of youth and determination with underlying tones of compassion and concern. It was only a couple clicks later that the femme came bounding down the Tram steps, quickly depositing a large rolling trunk and a much smaller tool bag on the platform and just as quickly bounded back inside before Ratchet could get more than a brief glimpse of her.

"Ready when you are, sir. Just take it slow."

Ratchet watched with great interest as the femme gradually came back into view, backing her way slowly out of the Tram and down the steps to the platform. A pair of rusty, brown servos clenched almost desperately at her bright white shoulder plates as she gingerly made her way down.

"There you go!" The femme praised the painfully ancient mech using her frame as support, beaming up at him happily. "You're doing great! Just a few more steps and you're home free!"

The mech smiled kindly back at her, his amber optics glowing in appreciation, "Thank you, miss…"

The mech had obviously seen better days. As he came further into view Ratchet could see that not only was he terribly old, he obviously hadn't been well maintained. His tall, thin frame was warped and bent in places and in ways no frame should ever bend. His dull, brown armor was pitted and dented, some areas rusted through completely. Tremors racked his frame intermittently and his gait was terribly off. Ratchet's medical programming automatically ran through a list of possible diagnoses based on observable symptoms without any conscious thought from his processor.

"Chronic Degenerative Nanopathy." The diagnosis tumbled quietly from his vocal processors and the medic shook his helm. It was a rare but fatal autoimmune disease. A bot's own nanites turned on them, treating their own protoform like a foreign body and slowly breaking it down from the inside out. He'd only treated two cases in his entire medical career and the debilitating nature of the disease had made intervention difficult in both cases. Comfort measures were about the only treatment one could give. The main focus being on treating the unimaginable pain the patient undoubtedly experienced as the disease state progressed. By the looks of the mech, he wouldn't last much longer, that is, if he was lucky. The mech was in complete contrast to the picture of youth and health assisting him.

Ratchet shifted his attention to the femme who, hopefully, was Wheeljack's missing sibling. His first thoughts being that his imagination had been way off the mark. Her armor was a clean, bright white which was about the only characteristic the femme seemed to share with her bother. However, Wheeljack's armor never shown with as much luster since his armor was nearly always covered in scratches and dents. Where Jack had red and green detailing, this femme had splashes of aquamarine. Her armor was obviously tailored for function rather than fashion, allowing great range and ease of movement, but it hugged all of her softer, feminine curves nicely and she wore it well. She was petite and compact and Ratchet wondered if she would even reach his shoulder bolts if they stood side by side. It also made him wonder how she kept the larger mech, larger than even he, upright and stable as they moved together. He continued to watch, moving slowly closer without really thinking about it, as the femme helped the crippled mech to sit down on a bench and then proceeded to drag his rolling trunk to within an arm's reach.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright sitting here?" The femme continued to watch the older bot with concern. "Is there someone I should comm?"

"I'll be just fine, miss," the mech's frame trembled nearly uncontrollably. "I've already commed my creation's spark mate and he's on his way here now. I shouldn't have to wait longer than a couple breems."

"Okay," The femme nodded. "If you're sure. I don't want to abandon you here all by yourself or anything."

"Nonsense," the mech smiled. "You've already been more than kind to an old, broken-down bot. I really can't thank you enough. I don't get around as well as I used to so a little help is appreciated sometimes. I apologize if I've held you up." He began rummaging around in a subspace pocket, pulled out a few credits, and offered them to her. "At least let me give you something for your trouble. It isn't much but…"

"Oh, no, no, no!" The femme shook her helm, refusing payment, and smiled kindly back. "No thanks are needed. I was happy to help."

"Hey, Pops!" Both bots' helms snapped toward the sound of the shout to see a large, red mech with glowing blue optics approaching them.

The femme smiled. "That your ride?"

"Yes," The mech nodded and laughed. "That's him."

"Alright," the femme turned back toward him. "I'll get out of your way. Enjoy your time with your family."

"You, too," the mech sighed. "And…think about what we discussed, okay? Things are getting pretty tense and providing engineering support to the armada may not be the safest thing for a nice, young femme such as you to be doing. Just think about it."

"I will," the femme agreed. "I promise. And you take care of yourself."

"Will do."

The femme gave the mech one last smile before moving away to retrieve her own luggage. She hefted the tool box, slinging the strap over her shoulder and turned quickly to walk away only to slam faceplates first into what felt like a solid wall of florescent green metal.

"Oof!" The femme staggered back, nearly tripping over her own pedes and falling on her aft if it weren't for the two strong hands that shot out to grasp her arms. She craned her neck struts back to look at the mech she had basically just helm-butted squarely in the chest plates, her sky blue optics wide in embarrassment. "Oh, Primus, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I wasn't paying attention. I didn't know you were behind me."

"It is I who should apologize." Ratchet made sure the femme was steady on her pedes before releasing her and allowing his arms to fall back to his sides. He took a moment to take in her facial features realizing that, once again, his imagination had failed him. Up close she was all shiny chrome and smooth, clean lines that made up her delicate and distinctly feminine features. The overall impression she gave off was not the in-your-faceplate type of sultry beauty that Frost Fire or even Titania exuded and projected to the world but rather a modest and understated simplicity that downplayed any physical attributes. For someone supposedly related to Wheeljack, Ratchet admitted, she was lovely. "I should have announced myself. You wouldn't happen to be Caliper by any chance, would you?"

"I'm Cali, yes," the femme confirmed and then quirked an optic ridge. "And you must be the famous Ratchet, I presume?"

"Guilty as charged," Ratchet snorted. "I'm not all too certain about the famous part, however."

"Believe me," Caliper started with a friendly smile. "Anyone who can piece Jackie back together on a daily basis after one of his experiments deserves some modicum of celebrity. That certainly isn't a job for the weak of spark."

"Well, I certainly don't disagree with you there," Ratchet mused.

"Still, I appreciate you rising to the challenge. Jack's the only brother I've got and I'm rather fond of him, you know? Also," Caliper's optics darted away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'd like to apologize…"

"Again?" Ratchet smirked. "I thought we'd already gone through that just a moment ago."

"Oh no, not for that," Cali shook her helm. "I mean, yes, I'm sorry for running into you but I meant for Jackie recruiting you to spark sit me. I'm sure you probably have a million other things you could be doing right now besides this." The femme vented. "He's gone into full-on big brother mode and is convinced that I'm incapable of taking care of myself without some sort of help."

"He cares about you," Ratchet stated a matter-of-factly, "And with good reason. Things here…haven't been the greatest lately. I don't mind helping out a friend and there is the added bonus that I get to see a lovely femme safely home. All in all, that makes for a pretty decent evening in my book."

"Still…" Caliper seemed unsure and a bit self-conscious at the mech's words. She fidgeted a bit; shifting the tool box she carried to her other shoulder. "I don't want to impose…"

"Impose? Bah!" Ratchet waived off her concern. "Don't be ridiculous. The pleasure is all mine." He reached for the strap of the tool bag in order to relieve her of its weight.

Cali sensed his intention and immediately tightened her grasp on the bag. "No! It's fine. I can carry it..."

"Femme," Ratchet looked down upon her sternly. "I don't doubt that you can but I'm trying to be a gentle-mech." He didn't remove his hand from the strap; he simply waited patiently for her to acquiesce.

A click or two ticked by and Cali finally vented and agreed, reluctantly allowing the medic to take her luggage and swing it over his own shoulder bolt. "Fine…but just this once."

"Just this once," Ratchet agreed with a nod of his helm. He then offered the femme his other arm. He lifted an optic ridge in amusement as he watched her debate with herself over whether or not to accept it. It was obvious to him that the femme wasn't used to accepting any type of courtesy. It was a shame, he thought, but he wasn't going to let her off so easy. "Shall we?"

After a moment, she seemed to reach a conclusion. Hesitantly, she linked her arm through his and threw a timid and slightly uncomfortable smile up at him. "We shall."

**End of Chapter 2**

**I'm so excited. My schedule at work changed so now instead of working 5 eight-hour days I only have to work 4 ten-hour days with Fridays off. Hooray for three-day weekends! Hopefully that means I'll have more time to write and get some extra school stuff out of the way. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and if you do feel so inclined, I'd love to hear what you think about it so far. **


	3. Chapter 3

**The Favor**

**Chapter 3**

**Author's Note: Hello, all! Welcome to chapter 3. I appreciate all those who have taken the time to read and add this story to their alerts and favorites. I would especially like to thank those who have taken the time to drop a review. So, thank you to: 11guest11. I hope that you all enjoy the latest installment. On a side note, I was listening to the Ramones when I wrote this chapter. The Ramones make me happy :-) **

_**Flashbacks are in italics.**_

**Summary: In all the vorns that Ratchet had known Wheeljack, he certainly couldn't recall the mech ever mentioning having a sister. **

**Warning: For Ratchet's perverse medical humor, a single blink-and-you'll-miss-it interface reference, and Titania's shamelessly sexual flirting among other things.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.**

**XXXXXXXXX**

**Cybertron**

_Though the trip back to Wheeljack's place started out rather awkward, Ratchet found that the mech's sister was surprisingly pleasant company. They had made polite small talk and he was relieved to find that his snarky sense of humor wasn't lost on her in the slightest. She reminded him a lot of her brother in the sense that she was both approachable and friendly. She also seemed to share the inventor's modesty, becoming quite embarrassed when the medic recounted that Wheeljack had shared some of her accomplishments with him. Ratchet found the way she self-consciously averted her optics and shuffled her pedes to be quite adorable. _

_He had asked her about her current work and she had briefly explained to him that she spent most of her time running computer assisted scenarios in an attempt to try to maximize the efficiency of the armada's fleet engines rather than the hands on research and development that she preferred and enjoyed. She had been quick to turn the conversation, however, by inquiring about his day-to-day activities as the CMO of the Autobot's Operational Base. Ratchet got the distinct impression that the femme did not like being the center of anyone's attention._

_They had strolled slowly down the street. Ratchet took the time to point out various locations of interest to the femme that he was sure Wheeljack, despite being her brother, had failed to do. She seemed to appreciate his knowledge of their surroundings and listened intently as he shared various facts and historical trivia related to specific structures. The femme seemed most interested in the architecture of the older buildings he brought to her attention and he made a mental note to suggest that Wheeljack take his sister on a tour of the old City Commander's mansion that had been turned into a magnificent art gallery housing the works of some of Cybertron's greatest artists._

_By the time they finally reached their destination, it seemed the femme had gotten over any initial discomfort she may have felt over having the medic's company thrust upon her by her sibling and the two found themselves standing outside of Wheeljack's building chatting and laughing like two old friends who had known one another forever._

"_He did not!" The femme looked at the CMO incredulously._

"_He certainly did." The mech grinned, "And you should have seen the look on his faceplate when I told him the only way to remove it was by dilating his aft access port and retracting it back out the way it went in. It was priceless." _

_Caliper burst into laughter, "You are horrible!"_

_Ratchet laughed right along with her. "What's horrible is that somewhere out there in the world right now there is a mech who thought it would be a good idea to allow their interface partner to shove an industrial magnet up their aft in the first place."_

"_Oh, Primus…." Caliper wiped away some stray cleansing fluid that had leaked from the corners of her optics. "That is hysterical! I don't think I've laughed this hard in forever."_

"_Me neither." Ratchet made a soft sound in the back of his vocal processor as he realized that was true. "In fact, I can't remember the last time I've had a decent conversation with a bot that didn't start out with my asking about their medical history."_

"_Now that's just sad," Cali chuckled. In the distance a bell chimed announcing the time and the femme's optics grew wide. "We've been standing out here for a groon!"_

"_Hmm," Ratchet checked his internal chronometer and a small smile pulled at his mouth. "So we have."_

"_Listen, Ratchet…" Caliper started as she gathered her tool bag up from the steps where the medic had deposited it and slinging the strap back over her shoulder. "I don't want to take up any more of your time. I just want to apologize again for ruining your night." _

"_Ruining my night?" The mech looked at her in confusion._

"_Well, yeah." The femme's nervousness had returned and she fidgeted uncomfortably. "I mean, I really appreciate you taking the time to make sure I got home safe even if it was just doing Jackie a favor. I know this probably isn't the way you pictured spending your evening."_

_Ratchet was loathed to admit it but Caliper was right. Had Wheeljack not approached him the previous evening asking for his assistance, he knew exactly what he would be doing right now. He would have a tank full of high grade and his interface unit in some femme's port, fragging her for all he was worth. Surprisingly, given the two different scenarios, he found he'd much rather be in the present company. The good-natured social interaction the two had enjoyed with one another made him feel fulfilled in a way he hadn't in some time. _

_Ratchet shook his helm, "Believe me, femme. This evening was much better than anything I had planned." The mech looked at her in all seriousness. "My night is far from ruined so there is absolutely no reason for you to apologize whatsoever."_

"_Still," the femme sighed. "Thank you."_

"_The pleasure has been all mine." Ratchet gave her a small, courteous bow. _

"_Well," Cali smiled at him. "I'd best head on up, then. It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we'll run into one another again sometime."_

_Ratchet nodded, "I certainly hope so."_

"_Good night, Ratchet," the femme flashed him one last smile._

"_Good night, Caliper." Ratchet watched as the femme turned and entered the building. He stood there for several clicks, unmoving, before allowing a large, satisfied vent to escape his intakes. He ran a hand down over his chassis, allowing it to rest lightly over the protective armor above his spark chamber. His spark felt…lighter for some reason; more optimistic. He wasn't sure whether to attribute the change to the pleasant company he had been in or the walk clearing his processor but he wasn't about to complain. _

_That night, the medic had gone home to his own apartment and collapsed onto his berth. For the first time in quite a while he fell into recharge quickly and soundly. When he dreamed it wasn't about painful betrayal, lying femmes, or random interface. No, that night he dreamed of leisurely walks, friendly blue optics, laughter, and shiny white armor. _

XXXXXXXXXX

"Heya, Ratchet!"

The medic turned from the energon dispenser located in the rec room to see Wheeljack approaching. He felt…good this morning for once, refreshed, and it showed as he jovially greeted the other mech with a smile and an extra energon cube. "Good morning, Jack."

"Thanks," the engineer accepted the offered cube with a nod of thanks. "I was uh, I was looking for you."

"Oh?" Ratchet took a drink out of his own cube and raised an optic ridge in question.

"Yeah," Wheeljack rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I, uh, I wanted to thank you for looking out for Cali for me. She gave me an audio-full when I got home about how she's a grown femme and doesn't need me to hire her a spark sitter. She also told me to apologize to you for intruding on your personal time. So, uh…I'm sorry."

Ratchet smirked. "I think she did enough apologizing for the both of you last night."

"Cali is pretty independent," Wheeljack stated matter-of-factly. "She doesn't like to burden anyone or be a bother."

"I noticed," Ratchet chuckled. "You can assure her that she is neither a burden nor a bother. I enjoyed meeting her. She's quite a lovely femme."

"She is. She's the greatest," Wheeljack agreed and shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Cali isn't gonna be happy with me but would, uh, would you mind doing me another favor? That is, if you don't already have any…plans…for this evening."

"Jack, she's your sister…" Ratchet started.

"I know! I know!" The mech threw his hands up. "It's just that I'm so close to a breakthrough on this new high-yield cybertronium reactor and if I can just figure out where the hiccup is in the fusion process we won't have to worry about the Decepticon Army's monopoly on energy resources should negotiations fail. I'm so close, Ratchet. So close…"

Ratchet vented. "Same time, same place?"

"Really?" Wheeljack looked at the mech thankfully. "You don't mind? I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated or anything, Ratch. If you're busy I can find someone else. Maybe Mirage…"

"What? No!" Ratchet's optics widened. For whatever reason, he didn't like the idea of the affluent, snobbish, smooth-talking Autobot spy keeping the femme company. "It's really no problem, Wheeljack. Besides," the medic shrugged. "I think Caliper and I got on with one another pretty well and Mirage is well…he's Mirage."

"He's an aft, in other words." Wheeljack laughed, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Cali did say she thought you seemed like a nice mech."

"Did she?" Ratchet looked at the engineer with raised optic ridges. A strange rush of satisfaction washed over him and a crooked smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. He didn't even wonder why a simple word of praise from a bot he barely knew could make him feel so warm. He was just thankful he had left the femme with a positive view of himself.

"Yeah," Wheeljack chuckled. "I told her it was all an act and that you were a sparkless bastard just trying to make a good first impression."

The medic's expression darkened immediately and his smile fell into a scowl. He crossed his arms across his chassis and glared at the other mech. "You are a fragging glitch, Jack."

"I'm kidding!" Wheeljack held his hands out in a placating gesture. "Seriously though, she did say you were great company. She doesn't really know anyone here so that really does mean a lot to me…Cali, too. So, thanks again. I owe you one."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ratchet snorted and allowed his arms to fall back to his sides. "I've heard that one before…and don't worry about Caliper. I'll make sure she gets home."

"Thanks buddy!"

The CMO watched Wheeljack exit the rec room and then checked his internal chronometer. His shift would be over in 9.753 groons to be exact. Though his days were usually busy and filled with treating various injuries and ailments causing the time to seem to fly by, it suddenly felt to him that his day couldn't be over soon enough. Then again, he mused, wasn't that the way things usually worked when looking forward to something? Anticipation always seemed to make time crawl oh so slowly.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Stupid fragging bots getting their appendages blown off right at the end of my shift." Ratchet checked his internal chronometer once again and cursed. He was going to be late and he knew it. In his haste to hurry up his repair job, his hand slipped causing his wrench to graze a particularly sensitive wire in his patient's wrist.

"Ouch, doc, that fragging hurts!" An orange mech squirmed on the medical berth and sat up. "Take it easy, will ya!"

"Well if you hadn't decided it would be a brilliant idea to stick your hand into the operational end of a plasma cannon you wouldn't be in this position, now would you?" Ratchet berated the bot and mech-handled him back down onto the berth. "Sit your aft down and be still. The sooner I get your hand reattached the sooner we can both be out of here."

"In a hurry, are you?" The mech leered at the medic. "Got a hot date tonight?"

Ratchet simply glared at the mech and tweaked a joint weld. "Open and close your hand please."

"Is it that hot piece of aft medical receptionist that keeps wandering by looking in to see what you're doing?" The mech opened and closed his hand as requested. "Pit, if that's the case I'd be eager to get out of here, too. I bet she's a beast in the berth. Am I right?" The mech waggled his optic ridges and winked.

Ratchet stepped back away from the medical berth and subspaced his tools. Hands planted firmly on his hips and scowl etched across his faceplate, he nodded towards the mech's right arm. "How does it feel?"

The orange mech went through a full range of motion nodding in the affirmative. "It feels as good as new, doc."

"Good." Ratchet inclined his helm towards the med bay doors. "Now get out."

"Heh!" The mech hopped down off the berth and moved toward the exit, skirting by the medical receptionist that had stopped just outside of the examination room. He looked her up and down and made a hum of appreciation before looking back toward the medic. "I'd tell you to have a good night but I can already tell that you will."

"Out!" Ratchet brought his wrench back out of subspace and wielded it threateningly. That, thankfully, was enough to get the other mech moving. He quickly turned back to the berth to clean up his mess. Another quick check of the time had the CMO cursing once again, "Damn it all to the Pit. Slagging, glitched-out piece of scrap metal..."

"You seem a little tense, doctor."

Ratchet jumped as a hand brushed down his back strut. He hadn't even heard Titania move from her spot by the door. He didn't falter in his clean-up efforts but he did nod in the affirmative. "I suppose I am. It's been a long day."

"Well," the femme started in her sugary-sweet voice, "Maybe I can help take your processor off of it." She placed one of her hands over Ratchet's causing him to go still. When he finally turned his helm to look at her she shot him her most alluring smile. "Let me buy you a cube of high grade and then maybe if you want we can go back to my place and…work off our overcharge."

Any other time the CMO would have went willingly along with her offer simply to avoid another night with only himself for company. Tonight, however, he only found the femme's blatant advances to be annoying. He slipped his hand out from under hers. "Titania, I…appreciate your offer."

The femme pushed her chest plates out tantalizingly and pouted, "But?"

"But," Ratchet frowned as he again checked the time. "I am running extremely late this evening and I really have somewhere I need to be."

"Oh?" The femme batted her optics at him. "Is it somewhere better that being in a berth, stripped down to your protoform, being ravished by a very talented femme?" She ran a finger down the center of his chest, down his abdominal plates, stopping right above his interface panel.

"Wh-what? Titania!" Ratchet sputtered. The medical receptionist had grown much bolder in her advances since her last offer. He had to admit, however, the temptation was there. He could feel the first inkling of arousal. He shook his helm and stepped back away from her. He didn't have time for this right now. "I promised a friend I would do them a favor. Your…talents…will have to be put to the test another time."

"That's what you always say," the femme pouted. "I'm going to start thinking you don't find me attractive if you keep that up."

"Hmph," Ratchet huffed. "That is certainly not the case, Titania. Believe me. I simply don't have the time this evening."

"If you say so," the femme gave him a wink. "Have a good night doctor. We could have had a lot of fun."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Ratchet smirked but as the femme turned away and sauntered sexily back out the way she had come, his countenance morphed into a frown. For some reason, he felt ashamed, guilty even, over the entire exchange he had just had with Titania. He shook it off. He had places to be. He had, after all, told Wheeljack not to worry about his sister. Thinking of his friend's sister and the promise he had made to keep an eye on her was enough to get his pedes moving toward the door even as another stab of guilt twisted through his internals.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Damn it all to the Pit." He was late. He hated being late. By the time he had finally reached the Tram station passengers were already disembarking. His optics swept over the crowd looking for any flash of white amongst the other, more colorful paintjobs. Bots were already filtering out of the station and into the streets and he only hoped he hadn't missed her. If only that stupid, Pit-spawned mech hadn't gotten injured, if only his office staff wasn't so damned distracting, he would have been on time.

"Look, Drag Strip, was it? I've already told you, I'm not interested. I don't know how much clearer I can be."

Ratchet spun around. He could hear her. Her soft voice raised was raised in irritation causing a bizarre surge of anger to pass through his systems that were already tense. He stalked down the platform, a mech on a mission, scanning the crowd. "Cali, where are you?"

"Hey, come on! It's not like I'm asking you to spark bond or anything. I'm just saying me and you should get to know one another a little better, that's all. Come with me to the Metroplex…"

"I don't want to go to the Metro- hey! Let go!"

"Oh, come on! You know you want to."

Ratchet pushed through the group of mechs and femmes blocking his path. He now had a clear view of Caliper and what he saw nearly had steam coming out of his audios. A yellow and red mech had shackled the femme's wrist in his hand and was busy trying to pull her toward the exit. His denta ground together inside of his mouth and his hands balled into fists at his sides. Protective protocols he hadn't even realized he possessed came roaring to the forefront of his processor as he stormed over toward the pair, fully prepared to beat the other mech into a pile of scrap if need be.

The mech, Drag Strip, yanked Cali's arm roughly, "Quit being so fraggin' stubborn, femme! It'll be fun! I promise!"

"Sweetspark! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Ratchet interrupted the scene and narrowed his optics at the red-eyed mech. "You have exactly three clicks to get your hand off of her before I remove it for you."

"The femme and I are just trying to have a good time." Drag Strip dropped his hand from Cali's wrist but still looked the medic up and down in an attempt to size him up, "What's it to you?"

"What's it to me?" Ratchet pulled his attention from the mech long enough to pull Cali into his frame. He cupped her faceplates in both hands, tilting her helm back so he could look down into her confused, blue optics. "I'm sorry I'm late. Are you alright?"

"I, uh…" Cali nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

Ratchet drew her close again. She fit neatly against his side and the CMO kept one arm looped around her shoulders possessively as he glared dangerously at the other mech. "I suggest you move along."

"Look," Drag Strip held his hands out in surrender and began to back. "I don't want any trouble. I didn't know she had a mech."

"Well, now you do." Ratchet jerked his helm in the direction of the exit. "So, goodbye."

The yellow and red mech sneered at him, anger in his red optics, but nodded anyway. "Have a pleasant evening."

Ratchet watched him leave, staring after him until he disappeared into the crowd. It killed him, the nerve of some mechs; assuming that simply because a femme was alone that she was fair game for them to pursue. Even a declaration of disinterest wasn't enough to deter some of them. Caliper certainly had made it clear enough but that hadn't stopped the mech from trying to lure her away. That thought sent Ratchet's thought processes in an entirely new and unexpected direction.

What did Wheeljack's sister look for in a mech? She was an absolutely lovely femme but one look at her could tell even the most casual observer that she didn't possess an ounce of vanity and so the CMO figured she didn't dwell on the physical. Finances? No…she was a propulsion engineer for the fleet armada. She had her own credits. Intelligence? He figured that would be important, especially to a femme so involved in the scientific and engineering community. Personality? She did seem like someone that would be more interested in the bot themselves than anything else.

Without much conscious input, he tried to decipher where he fit into those particular categories in terms of interest. So engrossed he was in his thought process, the gentle push to his side startled him and he realized he was still embracing the femme. He also realized with some trepidation that she fit perfectly into the crook of his arm and despite his sudden concern he was reluctant to let her go. He frowned down at her, slightly tightening his grip before another more insistent shove convinced him to release her.

Caliper quickly took a step back away from him. She truly hadn't minded being so close to the medic but when his thumb had found a fine weld seam in her armor at her shoulder and had subconsciously begun to brush back and forth across it gently, causing tiny shivers through her frame, Cali knew she needed some breathing room. The stirrings she felt were completely inappropriate for somebot to be feeling for their brother's friend. A friend, she reminded herself, who was only here as a favor to the aforementioned brother and not because he had any real interest in her personally. She shook her helm to clear it.

Sure, she'd only met Ratchet the day before but she could tell he was a good mech. He was intelligent, funny, and unbelievably sarcastic. They had gotten along well and she had parted from him the night before feeling that she had, at the very least, hopefully made a friend. Also, she feared she may have developed just the tiniest bit of a crush. Ridiculous, she knew, since she had known him for only a couple groons. She chalked it up to her being a stranger in a strange city and he being the first bot she'd met outside of those she worked with. She figured once she made more acquaintances the feeling would pass and she left it at that.

Still, she hadn't been expecting him this evening. Jackie had promised her, _promised_, that he would meet her at the station. Caliper blinked up at the medic, "What are you doing here?"

"Scaring off your would-be suitors, apparently." Ratchet flashed her a lopsided grin, "You're welcome by the way."

"Thank you," Cali smiled in thanks and vented. "I meant, why are you here? Jack told me he'd be here…"

"He didn't comm you?" Ratchet raised his optic ridges in concern, and then frowned. "That glitch…how long were you waiting for?"

"Not long." Caliper rolled her optics and bent to retrieve the tool bag at her feet, "Lover bot decided I looked like I needed some company just a couple breems before you showed up."

"I am sorry," Ratchet looked at her seriously as she straightened. "I should have been here sooner but I got held up in the med bay. I thought Wheeljack had let you know to expect me. Apparently he's on the verge of some kind of scientific breakthrough and couldn't get away."

"It's not your fault." Cali shrugged her shoulders, "And that's just Jackie for you. He'd forget his helm if it wasn't bolted on."

"Still," Ratchet lamented guiltily, "I'm sorry."

"No worries," Caliper smiled. "I'm just sorry you got dragged all the way out here to the Tram again. Wheeljack and I discussed this but apparently it went in one audio and right out the other."

Ratchet chuckled, "As you said, that's just Jackie for you."

"True," Cali agreed and laughed. "And I suppose if Jack can't be here you're the next best thing."

"Well, at least I know where I stand now," Ratchet put on an offended front that quickly changed into an amused grin. He looked at her and gestured toward the tool bag on her shoulder. "Are you going to hand it over or are we going to have a repeat of last night's standoff?"

Cali looked from the mech to the tool bag and back again. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she gingerly slipped the strap off her shoulder bolt and offered it to Ratchet not without a hint of reluctance. "Here."

"Good femme," Ratchet smiled and hefted the bag up onto his own shoulder. "You're learning. Now, let's get out of here before I have to fight some other bot for your affections." In a repeat of the night before, he offered the femme his other arm which she accepted much more easily than she had the previous night for which he was glad. When they finally exited the Tram station and began their trek down the busy city streets towards Wheeljack's humble abode, they easily fell into conversation with one another. The CMO decided that yes, this was infinitely preferable to being in a berth despite what anyone else believed.

**End of Chapter 3**

**Yay! Another chapter down! I'm so proud of myself. I've been horrible about writing so this is a really big accomplishment for me. I already, sort of, know where I want this to go and believe me there will be drama, angst, emotions (good & bad), and some berth action (wink, wink). So, if you have the time, please let me know what you think so far. Your criticism helps me be a better writer and put together the kind of story you guys want to hear. Feel free to voice any concerns or make any suggestions. I'm always open to your input. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Favor**

**Chapter 4**

**Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I am proud to present to you, chapter 4! Many, many thanks go out to all of you who have taken the time to read this story and add it to your alerts and favorites. I would especially like to take the time to acknowledge those who took the time to leave me a review since my last post: 11guest11 and Lil-B-Rebel…thank you! Here is a useless trivia fact about this chapter: I wrote nearly the entire chapter during breaks at school and work using Polaris Office on my Samsung Galaxy. Talk about a challenge!**

_**Flashbacks are in italics.**_

**Summary: In all the vorns that Ratchet had known Wheeljack, he certainly couldn't recall the mech ever mentioning having a sister. **

**Warning: Some minor touchy-feely. At least…what I consider to be minor touchy-feely.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"So, the neighbor heard the explosion and ended up calling our mech creator to come home from work. By the time he got there Jackie had dug himself out of the mess and we were huddled together in the living area terrified of how much trouble we were going to be in when our creators got home."

Ratchet laughed, "What did your mech creator say?"

"What could he say?" Cali threw her hands up in exasperation. "He was the one who thought it would be a good idea to buy Wheeljack a chemistry set. You know, foster his creativity and all that," she laughed. "He should have known better. Needless to say, that was the last time we were allowed to be at home unsupervised for a very, very long time."

The medic snorted in amusement, "It sounds like you and Jack had an interesting sparklinghood. You're to be commended for surviving to become an adult."

"Right," Caliper laughed. "It was interesting to say the least." The femme took a sip of energon and peered at the mech over the rim of her cube curiously. "What about you? Do you have any siblings?"

"No," Ratchet shook his helm. "I'm an only creation…oh, thank you." He looked up and smiled kindly at the waitress as she refilled his cube of energon.

Ratchet had found himself tucked comfortably into a cozy corner booth at an energon café right around the corner from Wheeljack's apartment at Caliper's insistence. The very least she could do, she declared, was buy him some fuel for heroically rescuing her from the over eager mech at the Tram station. Though he had insisted that repayment was not necessary, he didn't put up much of a fight when she clasped his hand in her own and pulled him inside of the establishment.

They had been seated quickly and the femme had proceeded to order two cubes of energon and, much to his delight, a large side of rust sticks, something he hadn't gotten the chance to enjoy since he was a youngling. They had crunched through the rust sticks while the waitress passed by dutifully every so often to refill their cubes. The conversation flowed easily as did the laughter and Ratchet felt more content sitting in that booth than he had in quite some time. Everything seemed so natural and right at that moment that the mech didn't even think to question it.

"Ma'am?"

"No thank you," Caliper smiled at the waitress who offered to refill her cube as well. "I'm good for now."

"Alright," the waitress drawled. "If you all need anything you just give me a holler."

"Thanks," Cali watched the waitress go before turning her attention back to Ratchet with a mischievous glint in her optics. "An only creation?"

"Yes," Ratchet confirmed. "An only creation."

"That sounds lonely." Caliper sighed. "Guess your creators figured they couldn't handle two of you, huh?"

"What are you trying to suggest?" Ratchet's optics widened in mock offense. "I was a perfectly behaved sparkling."

"Yeah," Cali looked at the mech skeptically. "I'm sure you were."

"Alright," he admitted. "Maybe not perfect, but," Ratchet grinned at her from across the table. "I certainly never blew up the house."

"Hey!"

Ratchet laughed at her indignant expression. He was enjoying their good natured banter immensely. Caliper had a sharp, quick wit and didn't offend easily. She recognized his sarcastic humor for what it was and dished it back at him as good as she got. Though he knew the femme longed to be able to spend some time with the brother she had rarely gotten to see due to distance, he was almost glad the engineer was too busy working on whatever he had going on in his lab to keep her company the last two nights. It was selfish, he knew, and completely irrational considering they were basically strangers to one another but somewhere down deep he felt that this was what he needed. The contented fluttering in his spark agreed.

Two orders of rust sticks and four cubes of energon a piece later, Caliper managed to wrestle the check out of his hands and pay for their goodies, much to Ratchet's displeasure. He supposed he was too used to high maintenance femmes that expected a mech to dote on them and take care of them. Caliper certainly didn't strike him as one of those in the least. She had even brushed off his offer to at least pay for the tip. Instead, she had plunked some extra credits down on the table stating simply that she had been the one that suggested the café and so she would be the one picking up the tab. After a moment or two of half-hearted bickering, Ratchet relented, allowed the femme to pay, and then followed her back out onto the street while the café closed up shop for the night behind them. All too soon for Ratchet's taste, they were standing back out in front of Wheeljack's building as they had the night before.

"Thanks for walking me home yet again, Ratchet. And…you know, getting rid of that mech and all." Cali shuffled anxiously. "Would it be too much to ask that you didn't mention any of that to Wheeljack? It's just…he'd go ballistic if he knew. He probably wouldn't let me back out of the house…"

"He's your brother and he would want to know if you had any kind of trouble…" The CMO knew that Wheeljack had entrusted him with keeping an eye on his sister when he couldn't be around and that the most honest thing would be to let the mech in on the things that transpired during their nightly wanderings. He also knew that divulging one detail meant divulging them all and thinking back to sitting so comfortably with the femme just a few moments ago in the café he realized guiltily that there were some things he wanted to keep just for himself…at least for the time being. That, combined with the pleading look on the femme's faceplate made the decision for him. Ratchet vented, "I'll leave it up to you to keep him informed."

Caliper smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Ratchet."

"No," Ratchet's expression softened and he shook his helm. He suddenly felt like he needed to express some kind of gratitude; to let her know that, for whatever reason, tonight had meant something to him. "Thank you."

"Oh?" Caliper looked at him questioningly and genuinely curious. "For what? I didn't do anything."

"You did quite a lot, actually." Ratchet looked at her intently. In the waning light her pristine white armor seemed to make her almost glow against her darkening surroundings. She looked almost ethereal standing there and in that moment he didn't think any femme, not Titania with her tight red armor, not even Frost Fire and her sultry looks could compete with the beauty he saw. His spark stuttered and he smiled, "Thank you for a lovely evening, for the café, and for being such wonderful company. I really enjoyed it...more than I've enjoyed anything in quite some time."

"Well, uh," Cali began to fumble and fidget nervously; suddenly seeming to be intensely focused on her pedes. "You-you're welcome. I, um, I enjoyed it, too."

"That's good to hear." Ratchet's smile widened even further at her sudden bashfulness but he quickly schooled his features into a look of seriousness. "I do have one complaint, though."

Cali's optics snapped up to meet his with something akin to panic in their depths. "What's that?"

"Next time," the mech deadpanned. "The fuel is on me."

"Heh…" Caliper visibly relaxed and nodded, "Sure…uh, next time."

A debate raged in Ratchet's processors as they stood there for a long moment just looking at one another. Neither one of them knew what to say. There seemed to be something hanging in the air between them that neither one seemed willing to acknowledge. Something inside of him seemed to click together at that moment and everything suddenly seemed so clear. There was a yearning in his spark that he could never recall feeling before and it frightened him. These were feelings he didn't care to have. Feelings, he knew, led to relationships and relationships in turn only led to spark ache. The matter was even further complicated in his processors by the fact that the cause of these feelings seemed to be a femme he barely knew, a femme whose brother was his best friend. The best thing to do would be to just call it a night and walk away, he knew, but he couldn't make himself look away.

Instead, Ratchet found himself taking a step forward without any input from his rational mind bringing their frames so close that they nearly touched. The femme stood on the second step, boosting her height slightly which put them optic to optic. It would be so easy for him just to reach out and touch her, pull her into him as he had at the Tram station, tilt her helm back and…

"I, uh, I should probably, um, head on up…" the femme stuttered, her optics wide as she slowly realized the medic's intent. A nervous panicky feeling churned in her tanks along with something else that she didn't quite recognize.

"Mmhmm," Ratchet agreed with a slight nod even as his fingers seemed to move of their own accord to trail carefully down the side of her faceplate. "You probably should."

"It's- it's getting pretty late so..." The mech was so close now that she could feel the heat radiate off of his frame. Her optics flitted back and forth as she looked for some route of escape. "I-uh, that is…Wheeljack should be getting home soo-mmmph!"

Ratchet had no idea what had possessed him. The urge overwhelmed him and before he really even knew what was happening, he had leaned forward and closed what little distance had been between them. He was as surprised as Caliper was to suddenly find their lip plates pressed together. The last femme he had kissed had been Frost Fire on that fateful morning that had led him down his current path. He hadn't been at all interested in romancing the femmes he had been with since nor had they expected it. This, however, felt different for some reason. This felt…right.

The hand that stroked her faceplate traveled around to gently cup the back of her helm. He coaxed her into a better position so that he could deepen the kiss. He felt almost desperate to know what she tasted like. He nipped at her gently, nearly begging for her to part her lip plates and allow his glossa entrance. His spark hummed eagerly in its chamber, urging him on. When his other hand moved to the small of her back to bring her closer, he felt her stiffen slightly before giving in to the slight pressure to bring their frames flush. Something inside of him rejoiced at just how perfectly the two of them seemed to fit together.

He was only able to enjoy the feeling for a moment before he was suddenly shoved away with more force than he thought the femme was capable of. He stumbled back, the sudden loss of physical contact sobering him instantly and causing the reality of what had just happened to crash down on him. He looked at the femme in shock and dismay, "Cali, I-"

"I'm sorry!" The arm Caliper had used to push the mech away was still extended out before her and the servos on her other hand tapped nervously at her lip plates. Her systems had become overcome with panic and it reflected plainly in her optics. Jerkily, she bent and groped for her tool bag, slinging it haphazardly over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. Oh, Primus…I have to go."

"Caliper, wait!" Fear that some kind of irreparable damage had been wrought between them filled the medic. He reached for her but was too slow. She twisted easily away, quickly disappearing into the building. He cursed as the door slammed shut behind her, "Frag it!"

"Stupid slagger," Ratchet berated himself and sank down onto the steps. He vented in disgust and cradled his helm in his hands. "What in the Pit were you thinking? She's Wheeljack's sister for Primus' sake! You hardly know her!"

_You hardly know her. _That was a joke. Ratchet may have laughed if he hadn't felt so distraught. Lack of familiarity hadn't stopped him from jumping into the berth with femmes he'd barely known a breem. What made this any different? His recent attitude toward members of the opposite gender prevented him from getting any closer to them than was required to initiate an interface. Typically, all that required of him was an ounce of charm and a cube of high grade. Most weren't interested in conversation or pleasantries and for that he was glad.

He'd believed that he'd had his fill of trying to keep a femme's interest when he'd been betrayed by Frost Fire. All of his attention and good intentions hadn't been enough to keep her faithful. He had believed that he had loved her enough that he had been prepared to hand his spark over to her, quite literally. Obviously, she hadn't felt the same. It was her loss, Wheeljack often told him, but he still had difficulty believing that he hadn't been the one to blame for her extracurricular activities with other mechs. Maybe if he had tried harder…but that was neither here nor there.

The situation with Caliper had much more quickly than even he was capable of processing. He wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that the femme was Wheeljack's sister or not, but Cali was the first femme since Frost Fire that he had looked at without the first thoughts in his processor revolving around the best way to get her in the berth. He enjoyed her company, for starters. He felt like he could be himself in her presence and didn't have to worry about causing offense or keeping her interested. She was also quite lovely to look at; her classic beauty emphasized by her minimalist approach to armoring herself. He was attracted to her, yes, but on an entirely different level than anybot previous.

He balled his hands into fists and struck his armored thighs. Things had been going well between them and he had gone and done something incredibly stupid. The look of horror on the femme's faceplate had confirmed in his processor that much. He had most likely ruined their easy report beyond repair. He grimaced at the thought that the femme would probably let Wheeljack in on what transpired and he was sure that the engineer would have plenty to say about his friend making a move on his sister…especially given the fact that the mech had been so vocal regarding his recent activities. Why had he ever agreed to do the mech a favor in the first place? Look where it had gotten him.

"Damn Wheeljack," Ratchet muttered angrily and hauled himself back up to his pedes. He cast one more look up at the building Caliper had disappeared into and felt a pang of need and regret pass through his spark as he turned to go. "Damn me, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

_Oh, Primus…Oh, Primus…Oh, Primus…_

The mantra repeated over and over in Caliper's processor. The data pad she had grabbed for a distraction lay all but forgotten on her lap. The words on the screen seemed absolutely meaningless and she struggled to decipher exactly what she was supposed to be reading. She couldn't concentrate, all her thoughts still centered on what had transpired just a few short groons ago.

She could still feel the medic's lip plates on her own and the phantom feeling was enough to keep her systems running hot. She still couldn't wrap her processor around what had happened out there on the street. One moment they had been talking and the next moment she had been closer to him than she had ever been to another mech in her entire life. It was at the same time the greatest and most horrifying thing she had ever experienced in her entire life. It was great because of how wonderful it had felt and also due to the fact that it was _him _she was with_. _It was horrifying because she had absolutely no idea what she was doing and what all of it meant.

Thankfully, before she could sink too deep into her thoughts, she was distracted from them by the sound of the door code to the apartment being entered from the other side. Gratefully, she tossed the uninteresting data pad aside as the door slid open and tried to look and sound as casual as she possibly could despite the churning in her tanks. "Well, well, well…look what the turbofox dragged in. Do you have any idea what time it is young mech?"

Wheeljack started and spun around. His optics scanned the living area, quickly zeroing in on the source of the voice. He chuckled, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. "Primus, Cali. You scared the slag outta me. What are you still doing up?"

"Couldn't recharge," she shrugged one shoulder. "Have a lot on my processor, I guess."

That, Caliper knew, was an understatement. Ratchet's sudden change in demeanor towards her had thrown her for a loop and she was still filled with giddy, nervous energy. After she had made her hasty retreat back to the relative safety of Wheeljack's apartment, her spark had been in such a state of flux that she had feared something may have been physically wrong with her. She briefly entertained the notion of comming a doctor but thinking of doctors only made her think of Ratchet and thinking of Ratchet only made her condition worse. Some time spent in the wash rack under the spray of scalding hot solvent had helped but only slightly.

Caliper never knew what to do in a situation like this. Any mech that she knew could testify to the fact that she was a good friend. She was easy to get along with, could laugh and joke with almost anybot, and she made an excellent listener whenever a bot just needed to get something off their chestplate. She had always been just one of the mechs. It was a byproduct, she assumed, of being a femme operating in a predominantly mech dominated occupation. She had always been Caliper the Friend: the femme mechs talked to about the femmes they were really interested in. On the very rare occasions when Cali found herself to be the focus of a bot's interest, she turned into a fumbling, bumbling, panicky mess. She supposed that was the most likely reason she had never had a proper intimate relationship with a mech. While other femmes were out flirting and mingling, she was curled up in her berth hyperventilating over just the thought of it.

With Ratchet, these embarrassing symptoms seemed to be magnified a thousand fold. She was fine so long as they kept a certain distance between them and stuck to discussing safe subjects like Wheeljack's explosions, or work, or even the current political climate but the second the mech got closer, offered to carry her tool bag, or offered her his arm to walk her home she felt her processor turn to mush. She knew these were simple, common courtesies that mechs often extended to other femmes but she had never experienced them first hand. She had told herself that she was simply unused to such chivalry and that the medic was simply trying to be a gentle mech to her for Wheeljack's sake.

Caliper wasn't going to delude herself. She did find the mech both engaging and attractive. Who wouldn't? She also admitted that despite knowing him for such a short time she did feel some kind of connection to him and had developed a bit of a crush. She had chalked it up to the loneliness of being in a new place and had been content to leave it at that but all of his thoughtful gestures only reinforced those feelings. Inexperienced she may be but she wasn't naïve. She had told herself time and again that the only reason the mech even gave her the time of day was out of an obligation to her brother. There was no way he would ever be interested in her. He was older, more experienced, more…everything. She was sure he could have his pick of femmes so why bother with his friend's awkward little sister?

Tonight, however, something had seemed to pass between them. Caliper had felt it and she was sure he had as well. Why else would he have done what he did? It was insane and it both frightened and confused her: two things she hated being. She didn't know what to do. She decided that the best action was the simplest: Ignore it. Pretend like it never happened. Erase the entire scene from memory. Maybe she would get lucky and convince Jackie she didn't need an escort and be able to put the entire embarrassing incident behind her and never have to look the mech in the faceplate again. That was highly unlikely, however. So, ignore it she would.

"You wanna talk about it?" Wheeljack plopped his bulk down beside her on the couch. "It looks like your gears are grinding pretty hard."

"What?" Cali blinked, pulled out of her thoughts by Jack's inquiry. "Oh, no…it-it's nothing."

"You sure?" Wheeljack looked at her with a touch of concern. "You know I'm all audios if you need to talk."

Caliper gave him a tight smile. "Its fine, Jack. Really."

Wheeljack knew his sister well enough that he wasn't convinced but decided to let it go. She would talk to him when she was ready. "Alright," he rose back to his pedes. "In that case I'm going to hit the berth. You gonna stay up?"

"Yeah," Cali nodded. "Just for a little while."

"Don't stay up too late," Wheeljack warned her and turned to leave.

Caliper hesitated a moment before her curiosity got the best of her. She blurted out, "Hey, Jackie, what's the deal with Ratchet?"

"Ah, slag it!" Jack stopped in his tracks and bopped himself in the helm, turning back to his sister. "I was gonna comm you, Cali. I forgot. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's just…we talked about this, Jack." Caliper vented. "I don't need you to hire someone to keep an eye on me and besides…I don't need some irate femme tracking me down wondering why I'm monopolizing her mech's time every night."

Wheeljack shook his head, "I know you're a grown femme and I know you can take care of yourself but it's getting dangerous out there, Cali. It isn't like back home. I worry about you, that's all."

"I know you do," Caliper smiled fondly. "And I do appreciate it but still…"

"Then just humor me for now…and you can put your little processor at ease," Wheeljack snorted. "You don't have to worry about any irate femmes. That slagger hasn't stayed in one place more than a night or two since his last relationship fell through. I don't think he even knows the designations of half the femmes he 'faces with." Wheeljack shook his helm sadly, "Pit, I'd be surprised if they knew his as often as he berth hops."

"Oh…" Caliper's optics widened slightly before they narrowed and she frowned. She wasn't quite sure what to do with that bit of information. Was it normal to feel jealous? Betrayed, even? Perhaps, she mused darkly, she was losing her processor. "Well, uh, that's…good to know."

"But hey," Jack shrugged. "To each his own. Whatever gets you through, I guess."

"Yeah," Caliper agreed softly. "I guess."

"Anyway, I'm beat." Wheeljack rolled his shoulders. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night…" Cali's voice was barely a whisper; a troubled expression was etched onto her faceplate.

It didn't escape Wheeljack's notice. "Hey, sis? Whatever's bothering you…I'm sure it will all work out. So, try not to look so down, okay? I know I haven't been around much since you got here but I promise real soon we'll get out and do something…just the two of us, alright?"

"Okay," a small smile twitched at the corner of the femme's mouth. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Jack. I've missed you."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "I know I probably don't say it enough but I love you and I'm really glad you're here."

Caliper's expression lightened, but only slightly as she looked fondly back. "Right back at you, you big lug nut."

**End of Chapter 4**

**And another chapter finished! Whew! Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Favor**

**Chapter 5**

**Author's Note: Hi, All! It has been busy, busy, busy lately so I really haven't had all that much time to write, unfortunately. I'm trying to do what I can. I'd like to, as always, take the time to thank all of those who have enjoyed this story enough to add it to their follow list and favorites. Extra special thanks go out to my reviewers: 11guest11 and PrimeEmily135. I hope that you all enjoy chapter 5!**

_**Flashbacks (or in this case dream sequences) are in italics.**_

**Summary: In all the vorns that Ratchet had known Wheeljack, he certainly couldn't recall the mech ever mentioning having a sister. **

**Warning: Ratchet in dream land. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

_The femme pressed her frame tantalizingly against his. His deft, agile fingers slipped in between the grooves and seams of her midnight blue armor causing her to shudder in pleasure. Her hands played over his body as well; seeking out his most sensitive areas with familiar, practiced ease and wrenching a moan from his vocal processor in the process. Their lip plates were melded together almost desperately, their glossas eagerly fighting one another for dominance. Cooling systems struggled to reduce the temperature both of their frames with little effect._

_He didn't know how much more of this he could stand. Already, threats of inevitable overload flashed across his warning systems but he couldn't have cared less. He shut down his HUD, wanting nothing else than to concentrate on what was happening in that very moment. He pulled her closer, if at all possible, and his sensory grid felt like it was on fire everywhere their frames touched. It felt glorious…but he couldn't help but feel something wasn't quite altogether right. He quickly pushed that thought out of mind when the femme began grinding teasingly against him._

_They stumbled backwards together, tangled in an embrace as they blindly sought the berth located somewhere behind them. She giggled; it was a light airy sound that sent a strange feeling through him that he again felt wasn't quite right for some reason he couldn't process at the moment. Though his physical body seemed to be quite pleased at the current turn of events, his spark felt heavy and restless in his chest. He was powerless to stop it now, however. He was too caught up in what they were doing to turn back now. He sat down hard when the backs of his legs finally made contact with the berth's edge, pulling her down into his lap and holding her as close to himself as was physically possible._

"_Eager, aren't you?" Her voice had taken on that familiar, seductive edge it always did in these heated moments. Usually, her tone would have sent the spark of desire through him but all he could feel was a slight uncomfortable churning in his tank. "I've missed this…"_

_Her legs straddled his hips bringing their most intimate parts nearly flush together, separated by only the thin, retractable armor that adorned their pelvic regions. She shifted against him, the delicious friction causing him to grit his denta together to maintain some semblance of control. He looked into her smoldering cobalt optics which were just as lust-filled as he knew his own to be despite whatever misgivings he had. To save his spark, he couldn't remember how they ended up here together but at the moment he didn't really care._

_She knew just how to play him. She knew just how to make him want her. Running her fingers up and down the nearly invisible seams of his cod piece, she bent close, a puff of deliciously warm air blew over his audio receptor as she whispered, "Have a present in there for me, doc?"_

"_Please, Frost Fire…I want…" His voice came out strangled and pleading._

_She smirked at him, a knowing glint in her dark optics. "What do you want, Ratchet?" She ground herself against him causing both of them to gasp. "Tell me…tell me and I'll give it to you…You know I will."_

"_I want…" He paused and the words he was about to say died on his vocalizer. Confusion settled over him like a heavy fog. What did he want? Something was not right but he couldn't place what it was. He looked away from her, utilizing every bit of self-control he possessed to block out the movements of the undulating femme in his lap and concentrate on what the problem could possibly be._

"_Ratchet…please, tell me what you want."_

_She moaned his designation and writhed against him but he barely registered it. He was too lost in his own thoughts. What do you want, Ratchet? Was that the issue? It had to be. He asked the question of himself. The answer was right there, right outside of his reach and try as he might, he couldn't quite grasp it. Whatever it was, however, it wasn't…it wasn't this. It couldn't be. This was what the 'Old Ratchet' had believed he had wanted. This femme, this physical excitement, this past, this lust…but it didn't seem to fit him anymore. He wasn't sure it ever really had to be honest but it was all that he had known and figured it was all he would ever have and so he had fully embraced it._

_He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there but he slowly came to realize that the femme's erotic movements had ceased and the room was now shrouded in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was peaceful. He closed his optics. His fingers flexed against the now still femme's hips that for some reason now felt more substantial than before; perfectly molded, filled out just right it seemed, to fit his hands._

"_Ratchet?" the voice was softer, almost sounding unsure, but laced with both inquisitiveness and concern. _

_Gone were the rough, pleasure seeking digits from earlier. Instead, gentle fingers brushed against his faceplate in reassurance and worry. The care and tenderness conveyed in the simple touch caused his frame to sag as the tension he had been carrying seemed to melt away on contact. He released a vent of air that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding and turned toward the source of the warm, easy affection, wanting more._

"_Ratchet? Hey, are you alright? Talk to me…"_

_He opened his optics and was met with a sight that made his previously dormant spark flare almost painfully in its chamber. Instead of Frost Fire's stormy optics he was met by bright sky blue. Smooth chrome features were softened in concern. White armor had replaced blue and gleamed invitingly under the dim berth room lights. His intakes hitched in recognition. "Caliper."_

_A small smile pulled at her lip plates and she continued to stroke the side of his face in encouragement. She still straddled his hips but her posture was one of patience and caring rather than lust and excitement. "It's alright. Tell me what you need, Ratchet. It's okay."_

_Need, she had said, not want. Need. He smiled back at her in relief. She somehow understood his dilemma. He could see it in her optics. He didn't need to think about the answer to the question this time. He released her hips and brought both of his hands up to cradle her faceplates. His thumbs brushed over the seams of her cheeks with great care causing her to sigh in contentment. "Caliper," he breathed her name once more before leaning into her. _

_He brushed his lip plates softly against hers, reveling in the pleasant tingles the action caused, before gradually deepening the kiss. He took his time to savor and enjoy. Slowly and sensually, they moved together. There was no rush, no frantic fumbling as from before. This was not the race to the finish Ratchet was used to or had come to expect from previous intimate encounters. This was…something else. He didn't want to voice it, not yet, but the yearning in his spark spoke more to his current predicament than he ever could. He had never felt this close, this connected to another bot in his entire life. This, he suddenly knew, was exactly what he needed._

"_Ratchet…" she broke the kiss, gasping when his attention moved to the column of her neck to nip and tug gently at the cables there. Her hands smoothed soothingly over his chest plates, calming the throbbing and writhing of his spark within. "Don't worry. You can tell me…"_

_He shook his helm. He couldn't…even though Primus knew he wanted to. It was too soon to even be thinking about such things. His old wounds were still too fresh. There were still obstacles separating them. They barely knew one another other than the few encounters they'd shared after work. So, instead of answering he rolled with her onto the berth until her smaller, more petite frame was pinned comfortably beneath his larger one. He prayed she would understand the reasons why he couldn't. Not yet. He lowered his helm, intent on simply savoring their closeness and kissing her again when she suddenly turned her face away. He raised himself up on his elbows, eyeing her with concern. "Cali, what's wrong?"_

"_We're gonna be late, Ratch. You gotta get up."_

_The medic frowned, "Late? For-"_

"_C'mon, doc! Up and at em!"_

_Ratchet's brow furrowed. The voice coming out of her mouth wasn't right all of a sudden. It almost sounded like, "Wheeljack."_

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Ratchet sat up with a start. His arms flailed out to his sides to maintain his balance and prevent him from falling off of his seat. The data pads that had been neatly arranged on his desk flew every which way as he scrambled to right himself. Once he could process clearly, he glared menacingly at the chuckling mech perched on the edge of his desk. "Primus, Jack! What in the Pit is wrong with you?!"

"Heh, heh…" the other mech's optics twinkled in good humor. "Sorry, Ratch but you were rechargin' pretty hard, there. Looks like you were having a pretty good dream, too, if the smile on your faceplates was anything to go by. I almost hated to wake you up. Do I even want to know what it was about?"

"No, you do not." Ratchet immediately shook his head in the negative. The last thing he wanted to do was let Wheeljack know he was having interface dreams about his sister. _Caliper… _Had she mentioned anything to her brother about his impropriety the night before? If she had, there was no doubt in medic's processor that he was about to receive an audio full from the mech and with good reason. Ratchet's optics widened slightly and he focused on the engineer, his body tense, expecting the worst was yet to come.

The engineer just shrugged, however, "Eh, it probably for the best, knowing you." Wheeljack chuckled and pushed himself up off of the desk. "I was looking for you. All of the senior officers have that meeting this morning with Prime to discuss the outcome of the negotiations with Megatron."

"Ah, slag it!" Ratchet cursed. He quickly stood and began to gather the scattered data pads, searching for the one he needed for the meeting that had completely skipped his processor. "What time is it?"

Wheeljack checked his internal chronometer and then, "Still have half a groon to get ready. I thought you might want to grab a quick cube of energon before heading down."

"Yeah," Ratchet visibly relaxed. He subspaced his wayward data pad and rubbed his tired optics with the heels of his hands. "That'd be nice. I could go for some energon."

"Are you alright?" Jack eyed his friend with concern. "You haven't been here all night, have you?"

"Mostly," Ratchet sighed. "I got home late last night after dropping Caliper off at your place and I couldn't recharge. I've got a lot on my processor, I guess. I figured since I was up that I may as well try to do something constructive and get some of these medical reports completed."

That was partly true. After leaving Wheeljack's building, he had wandered around aimlessly for a bit as his processor had tried to work out exactly what had transpired and where things had gone so terribly wrong before ending up back in his office at the Autobot base. He had, single-handedly, complicated the most simple of propositions, he had concluded. Escort Wheeljack's sister safely from point A to point B in his absence. That was all he had been expected to do and then he could have quietly gone about his own business. He just hadn't counted on Wheeljack's sister being so, well…her.

He had messed up. He had allowed himself to be comfortable in her presence and in doing so had left himself vulnerable to her keen intellect, quaint charm and classic beauty that she seemed to be completely clueless that she even possessed. Her naivety only added to her attractiveness in his optics. He had sworn after his experience with Frost Fire that he would never again put his whole faith and trust into a member of the opposite gender but Caliper made it hard for him to remember that promise to himself when he was with her. There was something about her that pulled him in and broke down his carefully crafted defenses and, Primus help him if he didn't enjoy it. Though he hadn't known her long, there was a familiarity deep in his spark that made him feel as if he had always known her. Despite how hopeless his situation seemed, he would be lying if he said he didn't want to see the femme again if for no other reason than to apologize.

"Is everything okay?" Wheeljack fell into step next to the medic as they made their way out of the med bay and headed toward the rec room.

"Fine," Ratchet gave the engineer a tight smile. "Everything is fine."

"Heh," Wheeljack chuckled. "You sound just like Cali. Both of you are horrible liars."

"What's wrong with Caliper? What did she say? Did something happen?" Ratchet stopped walking midstride and whipped around to face the other mech with a deep frown on his faceplates and his fists clenched at his sides. Concern laced through him as did the dread that he was most likely the mech at fault for whatever was bothering the femme. "Is she okay?"

"Whoa there, doc!" Jack threw his hands up in a placating gesture. "Take it easy. She's alright, just seems a little stressed out with her job and her reassignment and all that. That's all. Why? Do you know something I don't?"

"What?" Ratchet's optics widened and he vehemently shook his helm. "No. I just…I've become quite…fond of her over the last few days. She's a good femme and I'd hate to think that she was going through a rough time all alone if there was anything I could do to be of assistance."

"She is a good femme. The best," Wheeljack agreed, "But she's hardly alone, Ratch. We've always had each other's back when the going gets hard. There isn't too much the two of us can't figure out when we put our processors together. If there's a problem, we'll fix it. It's what we do."

"Yes, but…" Ratchet started but was interrupted by the engineer.

"She's my sister." Wheeljack looked at the medic poignantly. An uncharacteristic look of sternness settled over his features. "Remember that."

"I know that, Jack." Ratchet looked a bit taken aback by the other mech's sudden seriousness. "What are you trying to imply?"

"Nothing," the engineer shrugged. "I'm just reminding you. I know how it's been for you lately, that's all."

"I don't," Ratchet cleared his vocal processor. A stab of irrational fear twisted in his spark and he had to take a moment to carefully school his features, hoping the other mech didn't see it. To him, the mech's words sounded like an ultimatum threatening his nearly non-existent relationship with the young femme. He wanted to protest. He wanted to argue. Wheeljack thought he understood but there was no way he could, not really. Ratchet didn't entirely understand what was going on himself but for the mech to even elude that he may use Caliper in that way unsettled him. "I don't think I know what you mean."

"I think you do," Wheeljack's hardened gaze faltered after a moment and the mech chuckled and shook his helm. "You know what? Just forget it, Ratch. I don't know what gets into me sometimes. I'm a little overprotective, I guess. We're friends and I know you well enough to know that you'd never do something like that. Some things are just off limits between mechs, you know?"

"Off limits," Ratchet reluctantly agreed. "Yes, I suppose some things are."

"Besides," Wheeljack shrugged nonchalantly and started walking again. "She isn't even your type."

"Not my type?" Ratchet hurried to catch up. "What exactly is my type, Jack?"

"Oh, you know," Wheeljack's jovial mood had more or less returned and he happily began to tick points off on his fingers. "Older, scantily armored, flashy, experienced in the berth…someone more like that medical secretary that's always following you around. Caliper is none of those things, thank Primus, and thus, not your type."

"Primus, Jack." The medic groused. "Do you really think I'm that shallow?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest," Wheeljack laughed. "The femmes you've been 'involved' with lately, including Frost Fire, aren't exactly famous for their intellectual prowess and altruistic natures. Cali is a scientist first and foremost. She can't be won over by a cheesy pick-up line and a cube of high grade." Wheeljack seemed to contemplate for a moment as he finally stopped in front of the energon dispenser. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever even seen her take a drink of high grade."

"She is a smart one," Ratchet agreed and then smiled. "And a mech certainly doesn't need to get overcharged to find her company enjoyable." His smile faltered slightly. "She's a very appealing femme and I'm actually quite surprised no mech has come along and swept her off her pedes yet."

"Yeah, well. That's the thing about Cali. She's a little on the shy side. Kind of bashful about things like that, you know? She's never really been involved with anyone seriously that I know of." Wheeljack smiled. "I've always figured she'll probably end up settling down with one of those number cruncher-types that she works with eventually, maybe a statistician or something like that. You know, a nice, quiet, simple mech with book smarts." Wheeljack nodded to himself. "I think that would suit her just fine."

"Oh yes," Ratchet scoffed. The very idea of the femme being with another mech sent a surge of jealousy straight through his spark. "Every femme dreams of bonding to a mech they can sit around with all day discussing theoretical and applied statistics over a nice cube of stale energon. Have you ever tried to talk with a statistician, Jack? Primus, she'd be better off taking up residence with a drone. At least the conversation would be more interesting." Ratchet frowned. Even picturing the femme in a domestic situation with a mere drone had his circuits twisted. "The femme would be better off alone than…"

"Alright, geez, Ratchet!" Wheeljack interrupted the other mech and threw his hands up in mock surrender. "You've made your point. Primus, you act like I'm trying to force her into a bond or something. All I was trying to imply is that Cali tends to stick with what she considers safe. She thrives on stability. She isn't promiscuous and she isn't a risk-taker. She isn't going to be hanging out at the energon bars downing high grade and trying to pick up mechs like some bots." The engineer looked at the medic pointedly. "She tends to gravitate towards the familiar. Familiar, to her, is safe."

_Safe_… The word tumbled around inside of Ratchet's processor as did Jack's subtle jab about picking up bots at the energon bar. Shame, a feeling he hated to admit that he was becoming more and more familiar with especially the last couple of days that he had spent time with Caliper, filled him. Wheeljack had been completely off base about Cali not being his type. How could he, how could any mech, not be attracted to someone as intelligent, witty, beautiful, and seemingly kind as Caliper? Ratchet realized, however, that he was probably not what she was looking for. His previous relations had left him cynical and most definitely bitter. His promiscuity only left him feeling moody and despondent after the fact yet he kept repeating the same behaviors over and over as if he could expect any other result. If she only knew of half of the activities he had engaged in to take his thoughts off of his misery, there was no doubt in his processor that she would be both appalled and repelled. He was, for all intents and purposes, the opposite of safe. It made his spark hurt.

He still felt like he needed to address Wheeljack's assumptions about his sister whom he felt was being terribly short-changed by her brother's assessment despite his own short-comings. Ratchet sighed. "You know, Wheeljack, there is more to a femme than what is on the surface. There is no question that your sister is a brilliant femme. Frag, I've only known her a couple cycles and I gathered that from just a couple of our conversations and my own observations but it's not fair to label her as just a scientist. I also gathered that she cares a lot about others, she's kind, generous, and has an outstanding sense of humor. A femme needs a mech that can appreciate all of their qualities and vice versa. It isn't fair to make assume that simply because a femme has certain traits," Wonderful traits, Ratchet thought, "That she has limited choices. Caliper may be a bit bashful about certain things but don't doubt that she couldn't have any mech she wanted if she took the notion and I don't mean just as a berth mate. She'd make a fine spark mate for some lucky mech one day and a wonderful femme creator." Ratchet grimaced, the thought almost physically painful to imagine the femme bonded to and sparked by some strange mech , but continued. "I'd hate to see her, or anybot for that matter, tied down to someone simply because they were too afraid to venture outside their comfort zone and they were her most convenient option."

"What?" Wheeljack looked out the mech with wide-optics. If it weren't for the blast mask covering the lower part of his face, his mouth would have been hanging open in pure, unadulterated shock. "Who are you and what have you done with Ratchet? Where did that come from? What happed to the love doesn't exist and all femmes are evil, Pit-spawned, spark-destroying monsters rampage you've been on?"

Ratchet quickly downed the rest of his energon and slammed the empty cube down on the counter. "Just because my life is a smoldering heap of slag doesn't mean I wish it on anyone else. Drink your energon, Jack. We're going to be late." The medic quickly turned from his friend and headed out of the room leaving the other mech still staring after him. For once, he was actually looking forward to a senior staff meeting. At least it would give him something else to focus on and fume over for the next couple of groons besides the state of his personal life and his almost painful attraction to Wheeljack's sister.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, are you alright, little lady?"

"Oh!" Caliper started. "Primus, Sprocket, you scared me!"

"Aww," the much older mech frowned apologetically and moved to sit down on the workbench beside the jumpy femme. "Sorry about that, Cals. I was just worried is all. I know you're one to focus intently on your job but you're unusually quiet today."

Cali gave the yellow and silver mech a tight smile. "I'm fine, Sprocket. Really."

"Are you sure?" The mech leaned over and tapped the screen of the data pad the femme clutched in both hands. "Because I'm pretty sure you've been staring at this same schematic for the last groon and a half. I don't even think you've blinked…"

Caliper vented. "I guess I am a little out of sorts today, huh?"

"To put it mildly." The mech's frame creaked and groaned as he settled himself. "You want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

Caliper laughed, "You sound just like my brother."

"Well, good," Sprocket beamed. "It's good to know that there's someone out there besides myself looking after you…and that's what brothers are for at any rate."

"Yeah," Cali sighed. "I guess."

She had known the older mech for quite some time and they had become quite close. When she had graduated from the Academy and was awarded a spot on the Research and Development Team, she had been placed under Sprocket's supervision. The mech was nothing short of a perfectionist and could be quite the task master but he had a good spark and an upbeat, caring personality which more than made up for what he demanded of his team professionally. He had seen great potential in her and had taken her under his proverbial wing in order to hone her engineering prowess to his own rigorous standards. He was both her mentor and friend and had quickly become like a second mech creator to her. She had been ecstatic when she found out that he, too, would be transferring to the new propulsion facility in order to ensure that things were being run properly.

"Seriously though, Cals," the mech sobered at the despondent expression on her face. "Why so mopey? I like my Caliper happy and perky. This," he motioned towards her downturned lip plates, "Isn't going to work for me."

"Ugh!" Cali threw her data pad down onto her work station and flopped back into her chair, letting her helm fall back to stare at the pitted, metal ceiling. "I know I'm probably reading too much into things but…" She placed one hand over her chest plates, still feeling the unsteady, achy throbbing of her spark beneath the armor. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't talk to Wheeljack about it because it'll just make things worse."

"Alright, now you're scaring me." Sprocket leaned forward, elbows planted on his knee joints and his full attention on the young femme before him. "Start talking, sparklet, and don't try that 'I'm fine' slag on me. It's obvious that you aren't."

Caliper vented, "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is as good of a place as any in my experience." Sprocket nodded. "Now, out with it."

"It's Wheeljack's fault, really. I told him I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself but he wasn't even trying to hear it. I mean, I've been doing it for deca-cycles ever since our creators went to be one with the Matrix and Jack decided he wanted to be an Autobot and moved out here." Caliper shook her helm. "Then, I get transferred out here after all this time which I thought would be great because I'd get to spend time with my brother, right?"

"Right," Sprocket agreed. "I know you were really looking forward to seeing him face-to-face instead of via vid-chats and long distance comms. Family is very important to you."

"Exactly," the femme huffed. "But he's always busy in his laboratory so I may get to see him all of a groon every cycle even after he promised me he'd take some time so we could catch up."

"So you're angry at him because he's working all the time and you don't get to see him." Sprocket concluded. "Does that about sum it up?"

"Well, no," Caliper admitted. "I mean, we're both engineers so I totally understand how into his work he is and how important what he's doing is to his cause but he's trying to make up for not being there by pawning me off on one of his friends."

"Ah," Sprocket nodded, "I see…"

"But that's not even the half of it, Sprocket," Caliper was really starting to get into her rant. "His friend is the Prime's Chief Medical Officer. He's been meeting me at the Tram station for the last two nights and walking me home. He's polite and witty. He's an outstanding conversationalist and has an excellent sense of humor. He's intelligent…" Caliper trailed off, shaking her helm. "He always insists on carrying my tools for me and offers me his arm when we walk together. Last night he even told off a mech who was making some unwanted advances towards me. I mean, can you believe that?"

"Oh, the horror!" Sprocket laughed. "Let's track this dastardly mech down and get him off the streets. He sounds like an absolute menace."

Cali's optics widened in exasperation, "I'm being serious, Sprocket!"

"I am too, Cals," Sprocket chuckled. "It sounds like your brother's friend has good manners. His creators must have raised him right. So, what's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" Cali looked at the mech incredulously. "Are you not listening to a word I've just said?"

"I am, but my processing capacity must be diminishing in my old age because I don't understand why you're so worked up over a mech who…ah!" Sprocket grinned. "You like him, don't you?"

"He kissed me." The words fell out of Caliper's vocalizer like a ton of bricks and she could feel her spark squeeze in her chest. "Last night, after we left the Tram station, we went to an energon café and everything was so…perfect." The femme sighed. "We talked about everything and about nothing. He's so smart and funny and charming…handsome." She shook her helm. "When we got back to Wheeljack's we were standing outside talking and then, I don't know what happened. For a moment, everything just felt like it was in sync and…then he kissed me." Caliper laughed humorlessly. "Me…why would a mech like that kiss a femme like me?"

"Cals…" Sprocket reached forward and took both of her hands in his own. "Why would a mech not want to kiss you? You're a special one, Caliper, and I'm not just saying that because you're like a sparkling to me. I know there's not an ounce of vanity in you but you are lovely both inside and out. Trust me, I could name probably ten other mechs right off the top of my helm who would give their right arm to be in your doctor-friend's place. Did you…" the mech squirmed a bit uncomfortably. "Enjoy it? The kiss?"

"I…I…yes." Cali admitted not without a great deal of embarrassment. "I did but then I panicked and shoved him off the sidewalk."

"Oh, Cals…" Sprocket chuckled and shook his helm.

"I didn't know what else to do!" Cali defended. "I shoved him and then I ran inside and left him standing there."

"You are too much," the mech snorted. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, sparklet. If this mech is as decent as you make him out to be, I'm sure he'd be willing to overlook your glitching. I can tell you like him and it sounds like he really likes you, too."

"Yeah, well," Caliper snorted. "According to my brother he likes a lot of femmes. So much so that he makes time for a new one almost every night."

"Oh," Sprocket groaned. "One of those, huh? I'm sorry, Cals."

"Just my luck, huh?" Caliper gave a tight smile. "For once in my life I meet a mech that I really seem to connect with and not only is he my brother's best friend, he's also a pick-up artist."

"Caliper," the mech squeezed her hands. "You know I'm really not one to meddle in other bot's personal lives and I try to refrain from telling bots what to do outside of work but you also know that you're the exception." Sprocket smiled at her. "As the older and somewhat wiser component in this relationship, I feel it's my duty to pass along what I've learned over the vorns. You're young, Cals. You've got your whole life ahead of you to grow and learn and love. Mechs are a credit a dozen and one day you're going to meet one that makes your spark sing and you'll know he's the one for you. When that happens, it won't matter where you both came from or left behind. It'll only matter where you're going together but don't just settle for the first mech that comes along and shows interest, Cals. Never settle. You deserve better than that."

With that, the mech had departed leaving Caliper alone once again to stew in her own thoughts. She turned his words over and over inside of her processor. _One day you're going to meet one that makes your spark sing. _Caliper didn't want to admit that her spark sang when she was with Ratchet but she could grudgingly agree that it certainly hummed a tune. She thought of the kiss and then thought of her brother's words soon after. Sprocket was right, she decided. She did deserve better than that. She wouldn't settle…even if the mere thought of the Autobot CMO kissing her sent her core temperature soaring.

**End of Chapter 5**

**Finally finished. Yay! I actually started writing this chapter back in the beginning of August. Can you believe it took me two months to finish it?! That is unacceptable! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Drop a review if you feel so inclined and thanks for reading!**


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